


Damu

by DuckDuckDeduce



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Gen, I was bored okay, Reader-Interactive, Regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuckDuckDeduce/pseuds/DuckDuckDeduce
Summary: A short drabble I wrote when I was bored. Not really sure what was going on there...My first work, please be nice!





	Damu

There’s a tapping on the window. They never sleep, but you must. Every child’s worst nightmare: waking up, to see them standing over you. Their faces twist; grotesque masks of eternal agony, ready to devour. Careful, careful. They’re coming. Lock the doors, close the shutters tight: there’s someone coming home tonight. 

Ancient spirits, your brothers and aunts and grandparents that you’ve outlived by decades, centuries. You chose this. Its your fault, its always your fault and always will be. They call you Lefou. It means the Mad. It is apt, you think, that your name should reflect what people think of you. Strange, crazy, insane. They don’t know the truth. They’re the mad ones, those spirits in your room. Why should they feel slighted over what you chose; is it not your life to live? You live on, and they live on in death, dreams, memories here to haunt your waking days. Ghosts, the children call them, laughing on the blackened streets. Old Lefou is controlling the ghosts. They are not ghosts, you tell them. 

They are regrets, wishes held by eternal eyes that stalk and prowl and hurt. You do not control them. They control you. Why, why, can they not accept your choice. You may regret it now, but at the time it was best. They do not understand, only creep, silently into your brain, freezing you and freeing you and scorn, so much scorn. They can’t understand, they wont. They don’t care about your reasons, the best of intentions. They don’t care if you were right and they were wrong or that they were right, and you were wrong. They do not care of trivial human concepts of right or righteousness. They know only pain, the pain you forced on them when you left them behind, oh god why did you leave them behind?

You were happy, they were good, you did this to them, you did this to us. Why why why why? Couldn’t you wait? So eager to escape us, so eager to be free? Who is free now, when the shackles of time hold close? Who, when the children cry pointing and the adults look away, when the only ones who understand are the only ones you do not wish to see?

What do you wish to see? Do you want them happy, do you wish to turn back the clock? Do you wish to return to that fateful day when it was you who pointed and cried and you who turned from them? You know you do not wish they were free, it was never about them. You, you, you. You wanted them gone, it all for yourself. You were the one who wished this upon yourself. They tried to help, you know you did, but why? What did they see in you? Who are you to them, but the enemy? Who else but an enemy would do what you did, would scorn them this way and rub it in by leaving them behind? How could you, how dare you?  
They are coming. They will always come. They are there to remind you, to enforce your solitude and haunt your nights. They are the ghosts the children should fear, that the elders should fear, but you know this is not the case. It is you, always you that should scare the children and frighten the adults just as you have done for centuries. You have slighted them, those Regrets, that you should have now but not yesterday, yesterday but not tomorrow, for the regret is never ending and never begun for life is what you make of it and death? Well, death is home. 

You have never had a home, and now you never will.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading


End file.
